


Warmth on a Cold Day

by MyWitch, SnapeBraille4TU



Series: 25 Days of Drawing - 2016 [23]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Art, Christmas, F/M, Ghost!Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWitch/pseuds/MyWitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnapeBraille4TU/pseuds/SnapeBraille4TU
Summary: Somehow forgot to post this before... Well, who's in the mood for Christmas Angst? :DLovely snapebraille4tu asked for some SSHG and the Ghosts of Christmas... Well, dear Brailleypants, I'm afraid this one isn't particularly Christmassy, but it is wintery so I hope that will suffice.Get out yer Kleenix! ;)ETA: Now with the drabble snapebraille4tu wrote!Seriously, get out your Kleenix.





	Warmth on a Cold Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SnapeBraille4TU](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnapeBraille4TU/gifts).



It had been so sudden, and so incredibly cruel. Twelve years after winning the war, twelve years of learning how to love and be loved, twelve heart-stopping glorious years...brought to a halt by half-forgotten poison. 

The poison raging through his ruined, gorgeous throat. The poison seeping from his fingertips. The snake’s poison left over, thought to be gone. No one could pinpoint the trigger- no one knew what caused it to awaken, and yet, it did, and it was ravenous.

In a matter of days, they watched him die from the inside out.  
.  
.  
The absolute quiet woke her. She knew before she reached out to touch him that he was gone.

She gathered his cooling and silent body into her arms and rocked him, smoothing his hair back one last time. Could he still hear her? She talked to him, as she rocked, and told him over and over how much and why she loved him. She kissed him carefully, and pulled the blankets up over them. She knew she needed to let someone know, and she would, of course, but for now, she simply wanted to stay in bed talking and remembering.  
.  
.  
It was months later. Snow had been falling for days. As she wrapped his scarf around her throat, she knew today would be the day she would finally return to his gravesite. Wearing the green gown he loved her in best, she cinched her blue coat tightly, slipped on her shoes, and started down the stairs.  
.  
.  
The wind was whistling and it was so bitter cold. Her tears were going to freeze, just like her heart. She dreamed about him again last night. How did that old Muggle song go? A dream is a wish your heart makes. She feels him, faintly, with a hand pressed so, so gently to her belly. It is almost Christmas, and she has one more wish to make.


End file.
